


Tall Tales

by DragonGirl420



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Daddy Dean Winchester, F/M, daddy!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 10:46:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18179597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonGirl420/pseuds/DragonGirl420
Summary: Dean and his family go camping and his son insists on hearing some old hunting stories.





	Tall Tales

**Author's Note:**

> Written for @spngenrebingo. Square filled: Camp Fire  
> It has been a while since I’ve been able to write anything, but I came across this in my drafts and wanted to give it an ending.

The snap of the branch behind you made you freeze and wince simultaneously. You quietly glanced over your shoulder and he apologized with a silent smile, while his bright green eyes, that were mirrors of his dad’s, twinkled with mischief. You put a finger to your lips to remind him he had to be quiet. If he made much more noise, the plan wouldn’t work.

He followed you around the thicket of brush and pine trees, this time more careful with his steps. You paused and looked through a bare spot, seeing the campfire burning in the distance. There was no one there. Chewing on your lower lip, you turned to look at him and shrugged as his little face twisted in confusion.

“Where is he?” Charlie asked in his loudest whisper.

“I don’t know bub,” you said, standing straight up, a hint of real concern growing in your gut. “He should be—”

“HERE!” Dean yelled and jumped out from behind the two of you, making you nearly jump out of your skin, and causing your son to scream with delight.

“Daddy!!!” he wailed, “We were ‘supposta scare you!”

Dean cackled wildly and scooped the boy up in his arms, only to dip him back to the ground like he was pretending to drop him. Charlie’s moment of panic was already forgotten as he got tossed about.

“Come on, Charlie, you really think you and your mom could get the drop on me?” Dean glanced over at you with a subtle wink, as your hands found their way to your hips and you flashed him a warning expression.

“Hey now, I remember a few times having got the drop on you, buddy.”

“Nah,” he smirked and ticked his head, “those are just the times I let ya.”

Dean put Charlie back to the ground, and he sped off back to your campsite. You tried to grab onto his puffer vest as he darted by, but he had inherited Dean’s reflexes and easily outmaneuvered you.

“That’s some kid we made, huh?” Dean smiled at you, his soft gaze following Charlie as he darted through the trees, reminding you why you fell in love with him in the first place.

“He’s pretty great, isn’t he?”

Dean pulled you in close and kissed your cheek. He took your hand in his and you made your way back to the campsite. By the time you and Dean caught back up to him, he was sitting on one of the coolers that were just off to the side of the campfire.

“Slowpokes!” he teased as you both came back. “I was here forever ago!”

“That’s cause you’re the quickest kid around,” Dean winked at him, earning a huge grin to spread across Charlie’s face, but it fell just as quickly.

“What’s wrong, bub?” you asked as you took a place close to the fire. You were adding the marshmallows to the sticks when you noticed the change in Charlie’s demeanor.

His small features that were a near mirror image of Dean’s dramatically shifted into contemplation. You knew this look, well. He was deep in thought, and would eventually share his question, but he wanted to try and work it out on his own first.

Charlie jumped off the cooler and sat between you and Dean by the fire. He snuggled into your side, which always made you smile. He was still young enough to be able to enjoy snuggling with his mom without worrying if anyone noticed and would call him out for being a baby.

“Daddy, how’d you get so good at scaring people?” he finally asked, looking up at Dean.

“Oh, uh, well…” Dean looked nervously to you. The corners of his mouth pulled into a frown and shrugged slightly, unsure of how to answer him.

It had been years since either of you had hunted, deciding to step back from the life once Charlie was born. You didn’t hide that side of the world from him, but you didn’t actively pursue it either. He knew that there were really scary things out there, but he also knew that he shouldn’t be running towards them.

“Daddy?”

“I think… uh, practice, buddy. You know, I used to scare Uncle Sam all the time when we were kids.”

“I don’t have a brother to scare,” he whined.

“And you’re not going too. One little Winchester is quite enough for me, thank you. Got my hands full with you and your dad.”

“What about hunting?” he asked.

You and Dean shared a look of panic. “Hunting?”

“Yeah, you and dad used to hunt scary stuff, right? Did you have to scare stuff away?”

“Where’s all this coming from Charlie?” you snuggled him closer to you and kissed his head. “Why the sudden need to scare stuff and ask about hunting?”

“I don’t know, just curious… Can you tell me about one?”

“One what? A hunt?” Dean asked hesitantly.

“Mhm, tell me a good, scary story daddy!”

You felt a mild, underlying panic start to set in at what Dean might come up with to tell your son. He had been good at dodging these types of questions or requests for a while, but now under the dusky sky and sitting around the campfire, Charlie was insistent.

“Pleeeeaseeee?” he begged, his wide, curious eyes pleading with his father.

“Alright…” Dean cleared his throat, and suddenly a grin unfurled across his face. “Did I ever tell you about the time your Uncle and I teamed up with the Scooby gang?”

Charlie furrowed his brow. “No, don’t think so.”

“Well, they were this group that also went around to help people. We ran into them once and got to tag along on an overnight case in this big, old scary mansion.”

“Whoooaaaa,” Charlie mused, his eyes growing larger as he leaned in to listen.

Dean smirked and wiggled his eyebrows at you triumphantly. Snorting a laugh, you sighed at him and watched as he captivated Charlie with his tale.

“Everything seemed alright until we went to bed. Then, there was a scream in the middle of the night when one of the people there turned up de—hurt. Uncle Sam, Fred, Daphne, Velma—even Shag and Scoob—all came running to see what happened. Of course, I was already up and waiting, because I knew something felt off.”

“Oh my God…” you groaned softly.

Dean caught you rolling your eyes and waved you off. “Mom’s just jealous because she missed out on that case.”

“Mhm,” you replied sarcastically, “that’s it completely.”

“Anyway Charlie, I tell ya, this place was huge; dozens of rooms, old, creepy decorations… the works. So, once we found the guy who was—hurt—we had to split up into groups and go search the house for whatever it was that hurt him. Did I mention there was no power? No lights… just candles and a flashlight or two.”

“What happened? Did you find what monster it was? Was it a ghoul? A werewolf? A vampire? Did he still have his head? His heart?”

You and Dean both looked at each other, stunned by his assumptions.

“Charlie, why do you think it was one of those? How do you even know about those monsters?” you asked, worried now that maybe he knew far more about your old lives than you’d ever let on.

“I heard Daddy and Uncle Sam talking a few times. I’m not a baby, mom, I know what monsters are. They don’t scare me.”

Dean stammered and finally found the right words, “Well, that’s good that you’re not scared, buddy, but it wasn’t any of those things…”

“Then what was it?” he asked, his face slightly crestfallen that it wasn’t really a monster hunt story.

“It turned out to be a man just trying to control a ghost to do bad things to good people,” Dean said tentatively.

“Oh,” he sighed and got up from the log.

He reached around to your side and grabbed one of the marshmallows on a stick and stuck it into the fire. When he wasn’t looking, you and Dean shared a concerned look; both of you unsure of where to take the conversation.

“Charlie, what you hear me and Uncle Sam talk about… we don’t do those things anymore,” Dean said, as he stood up and then knelt in front of the boy. “Taking care of you and your mom, that’s what’s most important. You know that, right?”

“I know,” he said and shrugged. “I just wanted to hear a scary story about a monster you guys killed. I hear you tell those stories sometimes when you think I’m asleep.”

“Those stories, they are scary—”

“Then tell one of those!”

“Buddy…” Dean started, but Charlie interrupted him.

“I’m not a baby! I can handle it!”

“We know that Charlie,” you said as you got up and stood next to him. “I don’t think Daddy wants to tell you those because  _he_  doesn’t want to relive them. They were scary for him, and for Uncle Sam. Being a hunter was a really,  _really_ , dangerous job. Sometimes, the things we all had to do would give even the toughest, most fierce hunters nightmares.”

“Did you get nightmares, daddy?” Charlie asked, concerned set into his brow.

“Yeah,” Dean snorted, “too many. Mom’s right, some of the really scary ones are hard to talk about. So, I’d rather tell you about the other ones if that’s ok. How about the time Uncle Sam had to try and trap a Leprechaun after I got abducted by aliens… Oh! There was another job where Uncle Sam and I had to figure out why this little girl’s giant teddy bear came to life.”

Charlie’s whole face lit up. “What? Seriously?!”

“Uh huh… and he was NOT cuddly,  _at all_.”

Having recaptured Charlie’s attention, and successfully steered the conversation away from the truly scary monsters, you felt a bit more at ease with Dean retelling some more tales.

Balancing raising Charlie and reconciling your past with your present had been the most challenging part of parenthood so far. He was such a curious and smart kid, you could barely get anything past him. He was Dean Winchester’s son after all, which meant that he was quick-witted, already a pro with the sarcasm, and was ready to tackle any adventure or situation that arose at the drop of a hat. Even at his younger age, Charlie was fearless. The more he learned about the legacy of his family, the more he was eager to know. You could already see the man he would grow into; the strong, assured, brave one, just like his father was. However, for that moment, he was still your little boy and you just wanted to relish in every second you had with him.

After he finished roasting his marshmallow and paired it with the graham crackers and chocolate, he settled back into the crook of your arm to listened to his father recount the story of pretending to be Teddy Bear doctors. Dean continued to find stories to tell him well into the night, and by the time Charlie’s eyes had finally lost the battle with sleep, the moon was high in the sky and the cicadas were singing in the trees.  

Dean gathered Charlie from your side and carefully tucked him into the large tent you had brought for the trip. When he was sure Charlie wouldn’t wake, he joined you next to the campfire and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close.

“That was a nice save, by the way…” he said, turning his gaze from the dancing fire, to meet your eyes.

“When?”

“When you told Charlie I didn’t want to tell the scary stories for my own sake.”

“Oh, well, I know how touchy he is lately about being thought of as a baby. I realize that he’s not, but he’ll always be one to me. Even when he’s a grown man… it’s just how it goes.”

“Speaking of… would another one really be so bad?” Dean asked, his tone was playful but behind his eyes, there was something more lingering. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about it.”

“I—I don’t know. It’s not like we planned for him.”

“True, but I didn’t plan on you, either. Yet, here we are… Mrs. Winchester,” Dean smirked and wiggled his brows again, before stealing a quick kiss.

Your love for your little family felt overwhelming. Maybe it was the fresh air or the magic of the star-filled night sky… or just the mere presence of all three; but in that moment, you thought anything was possible.

“A little girl might be nice,” you mused softly.

“Really?” Dean’s face lit up with hope. “You’d consider it?”

“We did pretty good on the first one. I don’t know if  _he_  would be happy unless it was a baby brother, but, yeah, really…”

Dean couldn’t contain the grin that unraveled across his face. “We shoulda brought two tents.”

“Why?”

“So, we can start practicing now,” he teased as his tongue ran across his bottom lip while his eyes drank you in.

He braced himself for the inevitable retaliation he knew was coming. But when you instead turned your face up to his and planted a long, sensual kiss on his lips, it was enough to render him speechless.

“Mhm, too bad… that would have been fun…”

You got up and walked towards the tent where your son was sound asleep, ready to crawl beneath your own sleeping bag.

“You’re cruel,” Dean called out.

“Maybe, but you’re the one that married me,” you replied and blew him a kiss. “Kick the fire out, would ya? If I am going to carry another Winchester one of these days soon, I need my rest.”

Giving him a wink, you disappeared into the tent and settled in for the night. Outside by the now dwindling campfire, Dean once again felt a grin play on his lips. He turned his face up to the stars and closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath then slowly letting it expel.

“I wish I may, I wish I might have the wish I wish tonight…” he mumbled the old childhood rhyme. Squeezing his eyes shut tighter, he imagined his wish. Holding onto the image for another moment, he opened his eyes just in time to see a shooting star streak across the sky.

Smiling to himself, Dean kept the image in his mind of the little girl he wished for, as he put out the campfire and crawled into the tent to fall asleep next to his wife and son. 


End file.
